Epic Swim Maui: An epic exhibition of open-water swimming

Credit: Dayanidhi Das

Robby who?

In July 2023, I received a message on Instagram from a guy called Robby Seeger. Robby told me that he was pulling together an expedition swim, with the aim of circumnavigating the island of Maui. It was a short time after I completed Swim4TheGulf, and so the connection had come about from being in the right place at the right time. Little did I know at the time, Robby was himself a former high-level athlete as a two-time world champion of windsurfing, a true pioneer of the sport.

A few days later, in the throes of battling a case of COVID-19, I jumped on a call with Andy Donaldson, an accomplished open-water swimmer from Scotland, and Robby. Andy had also been solicited by Robby through Instagram. Needless to say, my normal levels of skepticism were heightened to unreasonable levels by the virus that I was battling. Robby talked about his vision of pulling this expedition together, and what it would mean for open-water swimming, for the community of Maui, for ocean health, and for watermanship generally. The vision was massive and somewhat far-fetched, but I was willing to ride it out and see where it went.

A month or so later, my daughter was born. Needless to say, my priorities shifted. In the meanwhile, the idea for this expedition swim circumnavigating Maui, coined Epic Swim Maui, continued to boil away in the background. Robby kept on chipping away at me, and eventually my skepticism transformed into excitement.

Unfortunately, my body was not following the script. A wrist injury that I had picked up following Swim4TheGulf had turned from acute to chronic. Meanwhile, I collected an injury to my other wrist in January 2024 during a gym workout. I was a competent swimmer with a good fitness base, but I would not be able to bluff my way through a 250-kilometre staged swim.

One of half-a-dozen wrist braces that I now own

At the end of March 2024, I notified the Epic Swim Maui team that I needed to pull out from the expedition. My wrist injuries were not progressing as hoped. The longest swim that I had done over the three months prior was one kilometre. In comparison, peak training in the lead-up to Swim4TheGulf often saw me covering more than 30 kilometres per session. To say that I was outside of peak conditioning would be putting it lightly. There was a small glimmer of hope that my body would come right, but I wasn’t willing to take that bet, and I didn’t want somebody else to take that risk on my behalf either. Pulling out felt like the right thing to do.

But Robby, bless his heart, is a persistent man and would not accept my resignation. He put forward the idea of contributing in a reduced capacity, swimming only the first portion of the expedition. The idea sat right with me, and I gladly accepted.

With weeks before the expedition commenced, I started to get back to some level of training. I completed several five-kilometre training sessions: my longest in more than 12 months. I was still a universe away from where I needed to be, but it was something.

It was only until I got on the plane departing Auckland that it really sunk in that this expedition was actually happening.

The fellowship forms

After a long transit to Maui, I was able to ground myself and meet with the other swimmers. In a sense, it felt like a second introduction. I had followed the journeys of many of these swimmers from afar – swimmers like Andy Donaldson, Sarah Thomas, Prabhat Koli, and Barbara Hernandez. These names may not mean anything if you are outside of this world, but they are synonymous with the sport of ultra-marathon swimming. For me, it was like being a kid in a candy store. I had so many questions and curiosities. Over the days that followed, and particularly once we began swimming together, our sense of togetherness grew enormously.

On arriving, I also gained a sense of the background support that this expedition had. There was the logistics crew, there was the film crew, and there was the water safety crew – in all, around 30 or so people, not including the swimmers. This is also not to mention the sponsors and financial backers who had made this expedition commercially viable. This really was a significant undertaking.

As we engaged in community events over the two days that followed my arrival and the arrival of other swimmers, it became clear that the community of Maui was behind this swim. There was a special energy and momentum that was gathering, which would carry us to the starting point of Hana and beyond.

The expedition begins

The starting point for the swim was Hana, the eastern-most part of Maui. The swim was to then traverse counter-clockwise around the island. This meant that we would immediately be exposed to the trade-winds, strong easterly-noreasterly winds that blow without reprieve over summer, as we travelled along the northern stretch of Maui. Hana is a beautiful part of the island, characterized by a lush-green landscape and a rural feel. There are two parts to Hawaii, as I would come to experience. There is the westernized, resort-peppered part of the country. Then, there is the part of the island that is more connected with the roots of Hawaiian culture. Both have their place. I personally felt more energized in the parts of the island that were more authentically Hawaiian. I could feel the spirit of the land in these places.

The first day of the expedition would begin with a blessing given by a kumu, a local elder of high standing. It was a surreal moment, to be finally stepping into the water with a dozen or so other athletes from all around the world after what had been an extended ramp-up. The idea was to swim together, as one. This was the first time that we had all swum together in a pack, and so there was a period of exploring each other early on. Within a few hours, we had found our stride and were swimming in beautiful synchronicity. We had started as individuals but were coming together as one for this shared mission.

Pre-swim blessing / Credit: Dayanidhi Das

With that, the expedition was underway.

The plan was to swim around 15 kilometres per day. Some days would be longer, up to 25 kilometres. I came into the expedition with very low expectations around how my body would hold up. Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised, swimming much more than my target distance of 10 kilometres on a daily basis. Any muscular pain that I experienced was due to lack of conditioning rather than being centred in my wrists.

Over the days that followed, we had some amazing encounters with marine life. On the first day, there was a sighting of two tiger sharks. The day that followed, we swam within feet of three bottlenose dolphins. I did my best imitation of dolphin whistling and singing as they played and spiraled around us. We had turtles, jellyfish, and seals visit on other occasions. Of course, this is not to mention the many small tropical fish that frequented the coral reefs. As we swam in different parts of the island, I got the sense that, much like New Zealand, Maui was once considerably more abundant with marine life. The human footprint has taken a heavy toll on our world.

Dolphins! / Credit: Dayanidhi Das

My highlight for the swimming component of the expedition was certainly day four. It’s worth giving some backstory to this day. At 2am in the morning, I was woken by one of the other swimmers for a fire-drill. Or, at least, that’s what I thought it was. In my state of tiredness, I gave no thought to why we would be having a fire-drill in the middle of the night at a campsite. I stepped outside of my tent and saw the large fire that was blazing less than 50 metres from my tent. Survival instincts kicked in. I woke John, who I was sharing the tent with, and quickly went about stuffing all of my belongings into my bag.

There was a state of panic in the campsite as other swimmers did the same. I dropped my bag at a nearby van with other bags, and then saw that the caretaker of the land had brought out a dozen or so buckets. My mind shifted from one of evacuation to one of counter-action. Perhaps we could do something to help. We gathered other swimmers as we walked toward the blaze. The edge of the fire was about 20 metres from the ocean shore. We quickly formed a chain of people to carry water from the ocean to the fire, dousing it one bucket at a time. Surprisingly, it was working. So much so that when the fire department came not long after, one of the firemen asked if we could continue with our efforts while they attacked the fire with their high-power hoses. By 4am, the fire was brought under control. With a 15-kilometre swim on the cards that day, we went back to sleep, waking about 90 minutes later. It's remains unclear what caused that fire to ignite.

Due to the severe wind and swell that was forecast for the day ahead, the swimmers involved had been contained to a core group. There was no opportunity for swimmers who aborted early to be brought back to shore if facing seasickness or any other malady. This meant, ultimately, that there would be six swimmers in the water that day, all seasoned and strong. As we left the harbour, it was clear the size of the swell that we would soon face. I have been in bigger sea-state than this, but it was certainly up there. The crew estimated it as an 8-foot swell. I had come into this day with a humble energy, and I was glad for it now.

Embracing the large swells / Credit: Dayanidhi Das

Within the first 90 minutes of the swim, I was hit with a sting from a Portuguese man o’ war jellyfish. We have jellyfish in New Zealand, with large blooms of lion’s mane jellyfish in winter. The sting of a lion’s mane is unpleasant. The sting of a Portuguese man o’ war is downright cruel. There is an immediate onrush of intense pain that lasts for about 15 minutes before slowly subsiding. It is not so easy to simply brush off. A friend said after the swim that the sting of a Portuguese man o’ war makes you feel alive – it certainly does, although I can think of more pleasant ways to achieve the same experience. The first sting swiped me on the right side of my body, collecting across my arm, back and neck. The next one slashed my left forearm. The third and final ricocheted from my wrist to my arm. In all, I had three stings over the course of an hour. I felt very alive. Even now, as I write this more than a week later, I have the faint markings of where a tentacle grazed my left bicep.

The Portugese man o' war

My goal was to complete the full distance that day, and that’s what I did. After 15 kilometres, we landed in Honolua Bay. The satisfaction on completing that swim was immense, in no small part because of the adversity that had been faced. It was a day of adventure and one that I will not quickly forget.

An emotional farewell

The last day of swimming prior to my departure was both joyous and painful, physically and emotionally. It was only our fifth day of swimming, but it would be my last. Swimming was no longer confined to a core group; the entire team was in the water. The swell had subsided as we rounded the northern point, bringing gentler conditions. It was a beautiful, shared moment with our team of swimmers. I was resolute in finishing, with accumulated sunburn pains and fatigued muscles weighing heavily. For me, it wasn’t about finishing so much as it was about soaking in the experience this last time.

Hunting as a pack / Credit: Dayanidhi Das

I was quite emotional that night. This would be the last time that this group would be together in this moment, and probably forever. It was special to be able to recognize that as we celebrated that evening, with both Sarah Thomas and me due to fly out the following day. It is safe to say a few tears were shed, in private and public. We started as strangers, but we left as family. It became clear to me that swimming itself did not make the expedition what it was – it was the nature of the experience as shared. Each swim had forced us to be vulnerable as we together experienced hardship and challenges. It had peeled back the layers of our ego until only our true selves remained. Try recreating that experience by going out for an evening meal.

The team are continuing on even now, only days away from completing the first circumnavigation of Maui. Four of the team – Andy Donaldson, John Kalei Clark, Ryan Leong, and Stefan Reinke – will likely complete it in full, making a mark in the history books.

As I look back on this expedition, there are a few things that I will take away. I will take away the connections with strangers who became friends. I will take away the memories of times merry and challenging. And I will take away inspiration, for each member that was involved inspired me in their own way (most markedly Robby, the architect of this expedition, for his downright persistence).

That inspiration will be drawn on many times as I track forward into my next expedition. It’s too early to talk about that yet, but all I can say is watch this space.

So this is “a hui hou” on Epic Swim Maui, but hopefully “aloha” to many more adventures to come under the Epic Swim banner.

Brothers and sisters / Credit: Dayanidhi Das